Play Night
by lady emebalia
Summary: "Stiles." Peter's voice was right behind him, low around too many teeth. He breathed out with a rumble coming deep from his chest. "Run!"


This story is a birthday present for the lovely Lilykep. Happy Birthday, my dear.

 ** **Warning:**** adult content, rough sex, claw play

If you feel uneasy with consent issues or get triggered by them, please read the note at the end of the story first.

* * *

 **Play Night**

Stiles parked the jeep in an alley next to the warehouse. He peered out of the windshield to have a look at the building but it was too dark to see much. No street lamps around here.

In this area traffic was a rare thing even in the middle of the day and at this time of the night there was nobody around for miles. Just abandoned buildings, the pathetic remains of Beacon Hills' short-lived industrial era.

He checked the address on his phone before he got out of the car. The night was eerily silent like it always was after midnight when sane people were safely sleeping in their beds.

At least his dad thought that he was spending the night at Scott's so if he dodged the occasional deputy patrolling the area he should be fine. This was nothing his dad needed to know about and the last thing he wanted was to explain himself to one of his deputies.

Stiles swallowed thickly and then went to search for the entrance. Straining his ears for any sound he squeezed himself through the half open door, the lock had been broken a long time ago. He couldn't see the hinges but he bet that they were rusty and hadn't seen an oil can in ages so he tried to not move the door.

Hiding his presence was probably a lost cause but he tried to be as silent as possible anyway.

Stiles followed the short hallway, peering into the small rooms to his left and right but except for some broken glass and garbage in the corners they were empty. At least he thought so, there wasn't enough light to actually see.

The hallway opened into a wide hall, supported by rows of concrete pillars but otherwise empty. Industrial windows let in just enough light to not run into one of the pillars but everything else was left in deep shadows.

"Hello?" Stiles asked. He turned on his heel to have a look around. His voice echoed from the walls but except for his own footsteps it was the only sound.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught something glowing. He spun around but it was gone. It might have been the telltale blue eyes of a certain werewolf but he wasn't sure.

"Peter?" He made a step in that direction but stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a growling on his left. Frozen he didn't dare to breathe while the growling deepened. The sound of a predator and suddenly Stiles very much felt like prey.

On instinct he backed off the way he came, slowly without sudden movements, while he searched the shadows with his eyes.

"Stiles." Peter's voice was right behind him, low around too many teeth. He breathed out with a rumble coming deep from his chest. "Run!"

Stiles ran.

"Shit, shit, shit." There was no way he could outrun a werewolf, he knew that, but he had to try. Propelling himself around a pillar he changed directions, the rabbit tactic was his only chance.

He swore that he felt claws brushing over his back.

Stiles picked up speed and took a sharp turn around another pillar.

The screeching of claws on concrete told him that Peter had made the turn the same way and Stiles could feel him breathing down his neck.

More on instinct than anything else Stiles ducked just in time to dodge Peter's fist which hit a pillar instead. Debris rained down on him and Stiles stumbled over something.

For a second he saw himself on the ground with a twisted ankle, waiting for the inevitable like a damsel in distress, but he caught himself with his hands on the floor and was upright again two steps later.

Peter wasn't on him by then which meant that at the moment he enjoyed the hunt more than the kill, so to speak.

"Stiles." The words still had to work their way around the fangs but that didn't dim the patronizing tone. "You can't escape me."

"I can try." Stiles shot back and made another turn. By now he'd lost any sense of direction. Where was the way out? His heart hammered in his chest and Peter's amused grumble was almost lost in the rushing of his own blood in his ears.

"You're it." Peter's voice was right in his ear, his breath brushing hot over his neck. Then a clawed hand closed around his throat and Stiles went very still.

Stiles whimpered when he felt the claws pressing into his skin and he tried to back off but Peter was a solid wall behind him.

He breathed as shallowly as possible but his chest was still heaving in his need for oxygen.

"Peter, please." He closed his hands around Peter's wrist but the werewolf didn't budge. Stiles felt the claws on his throat every time he swallowed and he had no other change than to lean into Peter, head on his shoulder and body flush against his.

Peter canted his hips and Stiles felt the hard outline of his erection against his butt.

A shudder went through Stiles and he closed his eyes.

Peter laid his other hand flat on Stiles' chest, the little pinpricks of his claws an uneven circle around his rapidly beating heart. Peter rolled his hips, grinding against him.

"You like this, don't you?"

"Sure." Stiles bit out. "Getting chased down by a horny werewolf, who doesn't like it? Bring the family, it's fun."

Peter chuckled, his fangs scraping over the soft skin right behind Stiles ear. His hand traveled down and slipped under his shirt. Stiles tried to squirm away from the claws running over his stomach but there was nowhere to go. He didn't dare to breathe when Peter found his nipple and started circling it with a sharp tip. The flesh pebbled under Peter's finger and Stiles could feel him grinning into his neck.

"Asshole."

Instead of an answer Peter ran a sharp line across his hard nipple. Stiles cried out in pain and almost impaled himself on Peter's hand still firmly around his throat.

By the time he'd caught his breath Peter had found his other nipple which instantly hardened under his attention.

"So sensitive." Peter observed and flicked his clawed thumb over the hard nub. Stiles bit back a scream.

He had a second to catch his breath while Peter worked his way back down over his stomach, claws ghosting over his skin. Then his hand came to a halt on the front of Stiles' jeans, the heel of his hand grinding down on his cock.

"You're hard." Peter said almost in awe.

"I'm a seventeen year old teenager." Stiles grit out and fought the urge to push into the touch. "Everything gets me hard."

He was rock hard and he was leaking precome which was kind of embarrassing. Especially since he knew that Peter could smell how aroused he was.

Peter scratched over the his groin without ripping his jeans before he slipped back under his shirt to let his hand rest on Stiles' stomach.

"Take it out." Peter whispered in his ear. Tapping his clawed index finger on Stiles' throat he made clear that it wasn't a suggestion.

Letting got of Peter's wrist meant to give up the last illusion that he had any control over the situation. Stiles closed his eyes in defeat and uncramped his fingers.

He fumbled with the fly but then he had his jeans shoved down and the waistband of his briefs tucked behind his balls. The cool air on his heated flesh made him shudder.

Behind him Peter shifted to peer over his shoulder. He reached down and ran a single claw along the underside of his cock from base to tip, dipping into the slit. Stiles had to clench his fists and bite his lip to not come from that alone.

Catching on Peter hummed into his ear, fangs nipping at his neck but he put his hand back on Stiles' stomach without teasing him farther.

"Now be a good boy and get yourself off." Peter ordered. With one layer of denim less between them, Stiles felt his hard cock riding his ass more prominent now and he knew this was just the beginning.

Stiles was a pro at jerking off. If it had been Olympic he would deserve a goddamn gold medal for it. On edge as he already was, he was about to set a new world record.

Without a thought his hands found his cock, one cradling his balls, the other one giving his shaft a few experimental tugs to warm up. Seconds later he was fucking his own fist, hips stuttering and head lolling on Peter's neck.

What pushed him over, and he would never admit that but he had the suspicion that Peter knew, were the deadly claws on his most vulnerable parts, throat and stomach.

He came with a cry, spilling his release over his fist and shirt.

"What a sight to see." Peter held him while he rode out the aftershocks. Then, finally, the hand left his throat. Only to turn him around so that he was facing Peter.

He was still shifted, eyes glowing blue, ghosting an eerie light on his fangs.

"Take this off." He tugged at Stiles' hoodie. When it dropped to the ground Stiles felt naked in only his t-shirt and undone jeans.

"What now?" Stiles asked, trying to sound braver than he felt.

Peter's hands landed on his shoulders. The pressure was answer enough. Stiles sank down to his knees.

At least he had his hoodie to kneel on, very thoughtful of Peter.

The sarcastic comment died on his lips when Peter shoved his crotch in his face. The denim was rough on his skin when Peter rubbed against him but he had his hands still on Stiles' shoulders so there was no getting away.

Peter backed off and for a moment he just stood there.

"Do you need written instructions?" He asked and Stiles knew he would arch an eyebrow at him if he had any at the moment.

Stiles glared up at him but reached for the button of his jeans.

Peter's cock was full and heavy in his hand and Stiles mouth watered at the sight.

He leaned in and gave it a slow lick with the flat of his tongue. He dipped into the slit and circled around the head with only the tip of his tongue before he closed his lips over the head and gave it a hard suck.

Above him Peter groaned, his claws digging into his shoulders and Stiles couldn't help but grin.

He did it again, closed his lips around just the tip and sucked.

Peter keened.

More confident now he let Peter's cock slip deeper into his mouth. He tried to get him as deep as possible but he was far from taking all of him. So Stiles covered the part he couldn't reach with his hand, pumping in rhythm with the ups and downs of his mouth.

Peter let him do what he wanted for a while but then his hands left his shoulders and a second later his claws were digging into Stiles' scalp.

"I'm going to fuck your mouth now." Peter informed him and snapped his hips forward. His cock hit the back of Stiles throat, making him gag.

Peter was fucking his mouth in earnest now and all Stiles could do was to slacken his jaw, focus on breathing whenever he had the chance and just hang on to the ride with his hands clutching Peter's ass.

Stiles lost track of time, it felt like an eternity, but eventually Peter stilled and slipped out of Stiles mouth.

"I don't want to come in your mouth." Peter growled, clearly fighting to not come right then. Stiles was tempted to just lean in and suck him to completion but before he could make up his mind, Peter hauled him to his feet.

"Strip."

A second later Stiles was kneeling naked on his discharged clothes, weight resting on his forearms and ass up in the air.

Peter ran sharp lines down his back, making Stiles whimper. When he reached his ass, he kneaded the globes with a mixture of a firm grip and pricks of claws. The feeling went straight to Stiles' cock.

Peter circled his hole with the tip of a finger, the sharp claw catching on the wrinkled skin. Stiles sucked in a breath and tried to squirm away but Peter had him in an iron grip.

"If you ask nicely you can prep yourself." He said and pressed the claw against his entrance, making clear what the alternative was.

"Please let me do it myself. Please, Peter. Please." Stiles begged long gone past the point of dignity.

"How can I say no to that?" Peter leaned in and bit down on the meat of his neck. Stiles cried out in pain and Peter backed off before he broke the skin.

Something hit the floor next to him and Stiles sobbed in relief when he saw the small bottle of lube.

He didn't know how patient Peter was, wolfed out like this not very, he guessed, so he went through the prep as quickly as possible. He made it up to three before Peter ripped his fingers out of his ass. Stiles had only a second to brace himself before Peter shoved his cock in.

In one long thrust Peter was in balls deep and he didn't give Stiles time to adjust to the stretch. He grabbed his hips, claws digging into the tender flesh, and immediately set a brutal pace.

Stiles bit his lip and tasted blood but he didn't scream. He screwed his eyes shut and focused on breathing and after a few thrusts it became more bearable.

Peter hit his prostate more often than not and by now Stiles was hard again. He ached for a touch but he needed both arms to brace himself if he didn't want road rash on his face from the dirty concrete floor.

Peter didn't last long. His thrusts became more erratic and then he threw his head back in a howl when he spurted his semen deep into Stiles.

The howl echoed from the walls and then there was silence except for their harsh breathing.

Peter dropped on Stiles' back and bit down on the already abused spot on his neck.

And with that Stiles came untouched.

He must have zoned out after that because when he came to, he was lying on an open sleeping bag and Peter, back to human and now equally naked, was cleaning him up with wet wipes.

"Here." He offered Stiles a bottle of water which he took greedily. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm good." Stiles mumbled but rolled to his stomach to let Peter work ointment into the scratches on his back and the bite mark on his neck. Peter respected the no drawing blood rule but he liked to push the limits. Under Peter's gentle hands Stiles almost drifted off to sleep.

When he was done with his back Peter rolled him over to take care of his front. Stiles lifted his head to have a look himself. A few scratches but nothing serious. The worst was probably his throat but that was nothing new. Peter took care of every scratch and welt, working his way from his throat down to his knees.

"Why do I always end up with scraped knees when it's your turn to pick?" Stiles asked, head dropping back into the soft padding of the sleeping bag.

"You like it." Peter shrugged and capped the tube.

"I do."

Peter stretched out next to him and closed the sleeping bag around them. Content Stiles snuggled up to him and was asleep in Peter's safe arms a second later.

A week later Stiles stepped out of the shower, toweled off and then wiped the mirror to have a look at the fading bruises. Especially his throat was a bitch to hide but by now his father had more or less accepted that he had taken some fashion advices from Isaac.

His father wasn't an idiot, though, he was the sheriff, noticing things was kind of his job. So there had been this one awkward conversation.

"I don't want to know who it is or what you're doing." His dad had said, probably thinking of Derek. It made sense, in some way, and Stiles would be the last one to tell him that he was looking at the wrong generation of Hales.

However, as long as his dad didn't _know_ , he didn't have to arrest anybody for statutory rape.

"But is it …" His dad had cleared his throat. "You know … safe?"

"Safe, sane and consensual." Stiles had completed the question and even today he wasn't sure if his father had been relieved or horrified by that. "We've talked about everything. I can tap out whenever I want."

"And he respects that?"

"Yes." Stiles hadn't hesitated at that. He trusted Peter. In fact, he had tapped out once in the beginning when they had still been figuring things out. Peter had stopped immediately and had made sure that he was okay.

"I just want you to be safe." His dad had said and Stiles had hugged him for that.

Stiles didn't have a look at his father's search history for his own mental health, though.

The pack pretended to not notice what was going on between him and Peter and if Scott and Derek sniffed him more now than they used to just to make sure that he was alright, he didn't call them out on it.

Stiles leaned in to have a better look at his neck and chest. The week old bruises had faded to yellow but there were newer ones as well. Partly from the two werewolves they had fought earlier that week, partly from the "thank god, you're still alive" quickie they had in his jeep right outside Derek's loft.

His dad was working the night shift so Stiles just padded over to his room naked where he put on the tight pants which brought out his ass quite nicely without bothering with underwear.

Then he checked the time on his phone. Like usually he'd texted Peter time and location and now it would be only minutes before the werewolf would crawl through his window.

Stiles had one last look around his room to check if everything was ready for their night and then sat down at his desk. He grinned when he thought about his plans for the night.

His dick was already hardening in his tight pants and he licked his lips in anticipation. Just to give his hands something to do other than to jerk off, he reached for the handcuffs he had put on his desk earlier. He would need them later.

Stiles let the wolfsbane laced handcuffs swirl around his finger.

Normal couples had date nights, he and Peter had play nights.

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 **A/N** It doesn't look like it at first but the sex in this story is completely consensual. A wolfed-out Peter is chasing Stiles and forces him to sexual acts. Later it turns out to be consensual roleplay.


End file.
